


lovers' desire

by goldenthunderstorms



Series: the ficpocalypse (challenge fics) [5]
Category: Hadestown - Mitchell, The Gentleman's Guide to Vice and Virtue Series - Mackenzi Lee
Genre: A little, Alcohol Abuse/Alcoholism, Alternate Universe - Hadestown AU, Angst, Angst with a Happy Ending, F/F, Fluff, Heavy Angst, I did an absurd amount of costume research for this, I love writing married mercy, I promise you don't need hadestown knowledge to understand this, I've been sitting on this au concept FOREVER, M/M, QPR Simlicity, and finally got it to work so, and watched a bootleg, but they are married, exposing myself as a theatre kid, god I hope that's tagged right, i hope this is in character, it's not pure angst I swear, its MY au and I get to make the rules, some of y'all bout to be real mad at me, some things are kinda vague but so is the source material so, they're not happily married in this one, who needs couples therapy when you have a magical song
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-07-15
Updated: 2020-07-20
Packaged: 2021-03-05 04:01:18
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 2
Words: 11,414
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/25278139
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/goldenthunderstorms/pseuds/goldenthunderstorms
Summary: So we struck the deal with the other gods: six months of the year, Percy lives aboveground, but the other six months, he returns home to me. It’s this cycle that the humans deemed the seasons. We managed with the cycle for millennia until something shifted. Until Percy wanted something that I couldn’t give him and refused to accept what I had to offer. But we’re as bound by the cycle as we are by our marriage. There’s no telling what would happen if the cycle suddenly stopped.So, we continue this dance of ours. I bring Percy home. We fight about the kingdom. We ignore each other for a time. Percy finds sanctuary in his speakeasy that he thinks I don’t know about. We begrudgingly begin speaking again. We oversee the kingdom. Percy returns to the overworld. It’s how we get by.(Hadestown AU)
Relationships: Felicity Montague & Henry "Monty" Montague, Henry "Monty" Montague/Percy Newton, Simmaa "Sim" Aldajah/Felicity Montague
Series: the ficpocalypse (challenge fics) [5]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1707529
Comments: 13
Kudos: 17
Collections: TGGTVAV AU Challenge Fics





	1. act I

**Author's Note:**

  * For [em_gray](https://archiveofourown.org/users/em_gray/gifts), [pinstripedJackalope](https://archiveofourown.org/users/pinstripedJackalope/gifts).
  * Inspired by [shooting stars](https://archiveofourown.org/works/25017997) by [em_gray](https://archiveofourown.org/users/em_gray/pseuds/em_gray). 



> welcome back friends!! this is my new fic in my fic challenge with my dear friends em_gray and pinstripedJackalope where we take an element from one of the others' fics and use it for our own! I took the garden from em_gray's fic Shooting Stars to bring you this Hadestown au!!  
> for those who are unfamiliar, Hadestown is a broadway musical retelling of the Greek myth of Orpheus and Eurydice. if you're unfamiliar, don't worry! this shouldn't take any prior knowledge! if you are familiar with the show/myth, don't be afraid. I took a good bit of creative license ;)  
> the roles are: Monty as Hades, Percy as Persephone, Scipio as Hermes (though he doesn't come up much), Felicity as Eurydice, and Sim as Orpheus  
> lyrics in italics are song lyrics taken from the show, but I did try to use as much dialogue from the show as possible  
> I hope you enjoy!!

The train pulls into the station at sunset.

The clearing is bathed in golden, late-summer light, making everything and everyone there look very  _ alive _ . There’s a small group of people, all of them standing and staring as the train pulls in, shaded by the trees as the first leaves of autumn begin to fall. The trees aren’t orange yet, but the yellowish-green of a plant still clinging to life. It’s how the entire clearing looks, really, but nothing so much as my lovely husband.

Percy looks just like those trees in a loose green shirt the same shade, flowing brown pants, leather boots, a flower in his hair on its last leg. But the most striking similarity is he, too, looks like he’s about to die. As we pull closer, I see him take a long pull from his flask.

Dramatic.

The closer the train gets, the better I can see the group he’s with: Scipio, Felicity, a cluster of humans I don’t recognize. How quaint.

With a final blow of the whistle, the train rumbles to a stop, causing the ground to shake with it. Percy turns to Scipio, who slides a large white fur coat onto Percy’s shoulders and hands him his bag.

The train door opens and I step out.

Percy whips around to face me. “You’re early,” he snaps, voice rife with accusation. It’s true. It hasn’t been quite six months yet. I’m sure Percy would love nothing more than to stay in the overworld longer. If it were up to him, it would be spring and summer all year round.

I just smile at him. “I missed you,” I say. I offer my hand.

For a few seconds, Percy stares at me, nothing but disdain in his eyes.

“We’re on a schedule, darling.” I extend my hand. With about as much enthusiasm as a man being led to the gallows, Percy closes the distance between us, placing his hand in mine. I bring his hand to my lips. Percy continues to glare. All of the trees seem to lose a day off of their lives.

“You can’t even give him another day?”

We all stop. I turn my head and lower my sunglasses. Felicity is watching us. She stepped forward when she spoke but when I look at her, she seems to ease back. Felicity looks better than she was when I last saw her a year ago. She seems happier, though of course not to see me.

“You’re always welcome to come back with us,” I say with a crooked grin.

Felicity’s face contorts with the same disgust I often receive from Percy. She does step back and a girl I hadn’t quite taken stock of before—a girl a bit shorter than Felicity with dark skin, a scarf covering her hair—takes Felicity by the arm and pulls her to her side, as if to shield Felicity.

“Your loss,” I say. “There’s always a place for you, dear sister.”

“Monty,” Percy says sharply.

The train whistles.

“All aboard,” Scipio says wryly.

I tug on Percy’s hand. “Shall we?”

Percy sighs. “I suppose.”

Dramatic.

Percy pulls his coat tighter around himself and follows me onto the train. Even as we step on, I watch the life being taken from the trees. I know why. I know that life follows Percy. The sun shines brighter for him, and I’m taking him to the place where the sun never shines. But really, would it kill him to be a little less morbid about it?

Percy and I sit across from each other on the train. As soon as we sit, he’s taking another pull from his flask.

_ Would it kill him to be sober in my presence? _

I’m aware that these thoughts make me a hypocrite. I had my own problems with drinking, centuries ago. I know what it does to someone, god or man. I went searching for something at the bottom of bottles and never found it. Percy hated it but by the time I managed to stop, our marriage was…as it is now.

And then Percy started drinking.

And it all goes downhill from there.

And he knew that. Percy stood by and watched me drown my thoughts in spirits for centuries and hurt both of us in the process. So why he turned to it, I’ll never really know. I asked, once, and he gave me some vague answer about taking advantage of what the Earth provides. I didn’t bother asking after that.

Sometimes I wonder if I’m to blame, in so many ways.

Every time he takes a sip from that flask, I want to knock it out of his hands. I want to scream at him. But I’m sure we’ll have plenty of time for that.

“How was summer, darling?” I ask when I can’t stand the silence anymore.

Percy studies me for a moment, taking  _ another  _ pull from his flask. It’s astounding that he never seems to run out. “I don’t know, you cut it short.”

“Percy—”

“We have a  _ deal _ , Monty.”

_ Yes _ , I think,  _ a deal we concocted so we wouldn’t have to spend eternity apart. And now here we are.  _ There was a time when those six months apart were torture. Percy looks forward to them now. “Seasons change,” I say.

Percy shakes his head. “Winter is too long. The people can’t handle it anymore.”

“Mine manage just fine,” I say shortly.

Percy glares daggers but says nothing more.

The rest of the ride passes in silence until the train enters the tunnel to get past the wall, plunging the cart into darkness.

I stand and offer my hand to Percy again. “Are you coming, darling?” Percy takes my hand and I lead him to the platform at the end of the train. We step out onto the platform just as the train emerges from the tunnel. We’re in the underworld.

From the platform, we can oversee the city. Though it’s dark, the lights from the factory make it easy to see the workers. A few look up as the train passes overhead and quickly look down again, focused on their work. Every worker has a task. Many are running machines, organizing others, but most are working on the wall that surrounds the city. The wall, the skyscrapers, the factories, they’re the fruits of my workers’ labors. I’ve built a thriving empire here and all Percy wants to do is scoff.

“I don’t know how you do it,” he huffs, throwing his coat off of his shoulders and folding it over his arm. He pulls a straw fan from his bag and starts to fan himself with it. “It’s the coldest time of year and it still feels like a crucible down here.”

“It’s the foundry, darling,” I say.

“It’s  _ unnatural _ ,” Percy retorts.

“Maybe.” I tilt my head. “But I took advantage of what the earth provides,” I say pointedly. “Besides, what else could keep me warm when I’m without your embrace?” I grin at him and he scoffs again, shaking his head.

“You’re not taking advantage of the earth, you’re taking advantage of  _ them. _ ” Percy gestures to the workers.

“Nonsense. My workers are secure—

“Your workers are  _ smothered _ .”

“My workers are  _ successful _ ,” I correct him. “They work but they are rewarded. No one goes hungry here. They are well-worked and well-fed, and we have our place to oversee it all. I’ve built the foundation of an empire, Percy,  _ our _ empire. Why can’t you appreciate what I’ve built for us?”

Percy pulls his hand from my grasp. “You haven’t built anything for  _ us _ ,” he hisses. “So what, your workers don’t go hungry? They want for nothing because they’ve forgotten how to  _ want _ . All they know is work. All  _ you _ know is work. You build your empire while the people above starve because you’re  _ selfish _ , with your resources and with me. Summer is too short and winter is too long. The crops die and the rivers flood. And you expect me to be what?  _ Impressed _ ? With this necropolis?” Percy gestures to the city again, practically spitting at me now. “I don’t want anything to do with your  _ empire _ .”

“You married the king—”

“No, I married  _ Monty _ , not the king of the underworld.” He takes a step back from me. “These days there doesn’t seem to be a difference.”

That’s because there isn’t. I don’t know when he’ll realize that. “Don’t you understand that I do this for you?” I snap. “Everything I do is for you. I built this kingdom from the ground up out of love  _ for you _ .” It’s my turn to scoff. “But if you don’t want anything to do with it, perhaps I’ll give it to someone else.”

Percy realizes what I’m saying and recoils like I’ve slapped him. I’m lying and we both know it. We’ve had this fight before. But nothing ever changes. Nothing that I do ever seems to be enough for him.

I continue. “Perhaps someone who will be more  _ grateful _ for my efforts. Someone who doesn’t treat my love like their execution. Someone who  _ can  _ appreciate all that I’ve done.”

We’ve reached a standoff, both of us glaring at each other.

The train grinds to a halt in front of a skyscraper, our modern-day palace. I swing open the platform gate to the steps. “After you, my lord,” I say dryly.

Percy takes another pull from his flask and, without a word, storms off of the train.

Percy ignores me for a time after that. That’s fine. Maybe next summer I just won’t come back for him. He wouldn’t even mind that. I could throw myself even more into my work. I wouldn’t even miss him.

But I can’t do that because, as Percy said, we have to abide by  _ the deal _ , even if we push it sometimes. 

The deal was made centuries ago, at the dawning of the world, when Percy and I were first married. The world hadn’t yet found its rhythms and the gods scrambled to find their places. Not me, though. My place was given to me. When the old gods fell and made way for us, I fell into my father’s place and took his kingdom. It was a lonely venture. My sister had no place and left the underworld in hopes of finding one in the world above. To my knowledge, she’s still searching. But I had my place, a solitary one, ruling over the underworld and the things in it—the dead, the mines, the shadows. 

But a god gets tired of the cold and dark. One day, I ventured out and found Percy.

Percy was dazzling then (he still is). I found him in the garden, singing, gathering flowers. I fell for him right away. I knew that with Percy’s light, the underworld would never be so cold and dark again. I was missing something and Percy seemed to be the one who could fill that missing piece.

It was love. It was impossible and it was venturous, but it was love.

I asked him to come home with me, and Percy said yes. Percy returned to the underworld with me and for a time, we were happy. But what happens when you take the god of growth from the earth? Nothing grows. The sun dimmed and the winds blew cold.

The earth needed Percy as much as I did.

So we struck the deal with the other gods: six months of the year, Percy lives aboveground, but the other six months, he returns home to me. It’s this cycle that the humans deemed the seasons. We managed with the cycle for millennia until something shifted. Until Percy wanted something that I couldn’t give him and refused to accept what I had to offer. But we’re as bound by the cycle as we are by our marriage. There’s no telling what would happen if the cycle suddenly  _ stopped _ .

So, we continue this dance of ours. I bring Percy home. We fight about the kingdom. We ignore each other for a time. Percy finds sanctuary in his speakeasy that he thinks I don’t know about. We begrudgingly begin speaking again. We oversee the kingdom. Percy returns to the overworld. It’s how we get by.

Percy left for his speakeasy a few hours ago, after dinner. He’ll be back before morning. It’s part of our dance. He runs his speakeasy, thinking it’s a sort of quiet rebellion against me. Maybe it is. But it’s not something I need to worry about. If that’s what it takes to keep Percy happy, so be it. Besides, it keeps the workers happy enough and they still do their jobs. I may have been ecstatic the day the old gods fell and I knew I would never see my father again, but sometimes I have to thank him. If nothing else, he left me a few pieces of advice to rule by. One of them being that a good king always knows how to turn problems into a profit.

That’s what I did with my kingdom. I turned all of the lost souls, sent to the underworld without purpose, into workers. Percy wasn’t wrong when he said that they’ve forgotten how to want, but isn’t that what’s best? They can’t want for anything when they can’t want at all. I freed them. Eventually, I was able to free not only the dead but the living too. Nowadays, I always seem to have a sense of when someone needs to be freed.

But I never thought there would come a day when that someone would be my sister. Yet here I am, watching her try to start a fire with barely any kindling. She looks worse now than she did when I last saw her, though it’s been nearly three months now. Despite our family’s broad shoulders, she is swallowed by her tweed overcoat. The small building she sits in front of looks like it might fall over at the first particularly strong gust of wind.

“Out of firewood?” I ask.

Felicity shoots to her feet and turns to face me. “What are you doing here?”

“I was under the impression that you might need some help,” I say, gesturing towards the flickering fire.

Felicity takes a sheepish step in front of her pile of sticks as if she’s ashamed of it. “Well, I don’t.”

“No?” I make a point of looking around. “It’s a bit late for the lady love to be out, don’t you think?”

“Sim isn’t my—” Felicity stops short and doesn’t continue.

“She seemed awfully protective of you last time I was here,” I say. “Come now, Felicity, don’t be ashamed. Have you finally found someone to love?”

“I don’t—” Felicity stammers. “Sim loves me but I don’t—”

“How cruel, Felicity.”

“It’s not like that,” Felicity says defensively. “I  _ do  _ love Sim just…not in the way that she loves me. But we’re still…” She trails off like she again doesn’t know how to finish. She frowns. “I don’t know why I’m trying to explain this to you of all people.”

“Oh, yes, because I know nothing about love,” I say flatly.

Felicity barrels past that. “Why are you here?” she demands.

“I come bearing gifts,” I say. I hold out my hand, showing Felicity the coins I carry. The hungry look she gives them tells me all that I need to know. She doesn’t grab for them, though. She sizes me up warily.

“What’s the catch?” she asks.

“You think so low of me, Felicity?” I ask, feigning insult.

“Yes,” she answers bluntly.

I hum appreciatively and retract my hand. “I suppose you’re right. There  _ is _ a catch.”

“Of course.”

“I see you’ve fallen on hard times, dear sister. Did being a doctor not work out?”

Felicity flushes, looking down at her scuffed boots. “What do you  _ want _ , Monty?”

“To offer you a way out.”

Her head snaps back up. “What do you mean?”

“You’ve stranded yourself on earth, searching for a place that you’ll never find,” I say. “What do you want, Felicity? To spend a few more decades in poverty, pinching pennies between the two of you until the girl dies? And then what? A thousand more years of wandering?”

“What’s the alternative?”

“Come back to the underworld,” I say. “Sign the contract. Join us. You’ll never have to pinch pennies again.”

Felicity hugs her sides, looking conflicted.

“What do you  _ want _ , Felicity?” I ask again. “To be hollowed out by poverty? Or to never want again?”

A well-timed gust of wind blows through, extinguishing the fire and causing Felicity to shiver. But she still doesn’t answer.

“I haven’t got all night,” I remind her. “I’m a busy man. Clients to call, walls to build.”

“I…” Felicity glances at her little shack, then back at me.

I hold out my hand again. Instead of coins, though, I offer a piece of paper.

“What is it?” she asks.

“Your ticket,” I say, “if you choose to take it.”

“Can I think about it?” Felicity asks, though it tumbles out of her so quickly, I don’t imagine that she’ll have to do much thinking.

“Sure, Feli.” I hand her the ticket and she takes it with trembling hands. “In the morning, the train will come. If you make up your mind, go to the station and present the ticket, and the train will take you home.”

In the morning, Percy is sitting at our table.

We’re on speaking terms again, then.

Not only that, but he’s also changed his clothes. He’s changed into, what he once called during one of our fights, his “mourning attire” that he often wears when he’s here. If nothing else, it helps him blend in better down here. His acid green made him quite eye-catching next to me in my black suits. Now, Percy’s donned all-black as well: a loose black shirt and pants, a black wide-brimmed hat, his sturdy leather boots replaced with sleek heeled ones. They make him taller than he already is.

Dramatic.

“Good morning, darling,” I say, going to join Percy at the table.

“Morning,” Percy replies over the edge of a glass of wine. He isn’t looking at me. He’s staring out at the city. Our table is set right next to a window overlooking the city so that, even when I’m not directly overseeing the factories, I’ll know if something is wrong.

Today, though, I have a feeling that something will be going very right.

“Come with me to oversee the wall’s progress today, hmm?” I ask.

He looks at me then, frowning. “Why?”

“Is it wrong to want my husband at my side?”

Percy makes a face, mulling my words over. “Fine,” he says, probably realizing he doesn’t have many other options.

After breakfast, Percy and I set out for the wall (Percy with more obvious reluctance than necessary). The wall is one of my more recent endeavors, one that I trust will keep my workers busy for a long time, but will ultimately benefit them. The wall encircles the kingdom, keeping my workers safe inside, and anyone who isn’t supposed to be out. And, if nothing else, it does look rather impressive.

Percy doesn’t say anything about the wall as we arrive, but I know what he’s thinking. He threw a real fit over it the first time he saw it. The train hadn’t even stopped before we were shouting at each other. Now, he just looks at it all with a sort of detachment.

The workers, however, do not. They’re obviously shocked to see Percy and I with each other again. Many of them look up and stare before their foreman scolds them. I’m sure it’s a strange sight. Percy rarely ventures into the city with me. It’s almost nice, though, having him with me. I start to wonder why I don’t bring him more often. Maybe it would help him see things for what they are. But as we get closer, I remember.

“Are they…singing?” Percy asks softly.

“What?” I realize that he’s talking about the workers. “Oh, yes. Don’t mind that. They usually sing when they work, though they’re not very loud.”

Percy looks like he minds it quite a bit. “What are they  _ saying _ ?”

We both stop, listening to the chorus of workers. 

_ “Because we have and they have not _

_ Because they want what we have got _

_ The enemy is poverty _

_ And the wall keeps out the enemy _

_ And we build the wall to keep us free _

_ That's why we build the wall _

_ We build the wall to keep us free” _

“Maxims, it sounds like,” I say.

“Propaganda,” Percy says, looking even more bothered.

I make a face. “Such a dirty-sounding word, darling.”

“It’s the right word.” He takes a pull from his ever-present flask.

I don’t bother answering him. Luckily, I don’t have to. At that moment, the train whistles, signaling its arrival. Percy frowns. All of the workers stand at attention, looking confused. But I know what’s on that train.

The train passes through the tunnel in the wall. Instead of going to the palace like it did when I brought Percy home, the train takes a turn and stops in front of the workers’ apartments on the edge of the city, in full view of the workers at the wall. The train doors open and out steps a waifish looking girl, hugging herself, arms exposed in her new overalls.

“Felicity!” I call. “You’re right on time. Come join us.”

Felicity looks dazed as she steps off of the train, but I smile at her and she seems to relax. Felicity makes her way over to us.

“Henry Montague,” Percy hisses before she’s in earshot. “You  _ didn’t _ .”

I glance at him. “What?”

“You indentured your sister?” he demands, though he’s still speaking so softly that only I can hear.

“I did no such thing,” I say. “Felicity fell on hard times. I saved her from an eternity in poverty.”

Percy is staring at me, disgust on his face plain as day. “You are a cruel and twisted god.”

“You’re blowing things out of proportion, my dear.”

“Don’t  _ my dear _ me.”

I wave him off as Felicity approaches. Without another word, Percy storms off. Let him act this way. I want to help my sister, whether he sees it that way or not.

“Monty,” Felicity says. “Where’s Percy going?”

“Don’t mind him,” I say. Thankfully Felicity, unlike Percy, listens. “You’re home now, Feli. It’s about time.” For a short moment, something flashes across Felicity’s face. Maybe pain, or guilt. Whatever it is, I don’t give her the chance to feel it. I take her by the arm and start to guide her into my office, a building not far from the workers’ apartments. “But before you can settle in and start earning something for yourself, there are papers to be signed. Step into my office.”

Felicity follows. Inside, I have her sit in a large chair and begin to pile the necessary papers onto the table. It’s a dizzying stack but necessary. Signing away one’s soul and its burdens isn’t an easy process.

“All of these?” Felicity asks.

“I’m afraid so,” I say. “It’s something of a complicated process. You are leaving behind a life, after all.”

“So after I sign these, I’ll be…dead?”

“Not exactly,” I say. “But you won’t be what you are now. You’ll be the same as any of the other workers. You won’t be a goddess anymore.” Though was she ever, really? A goddess of nothing is hardly a goddess. “But you haven’t much to lose.”

Felicity stares at the papers. I can’t tell what she’s thinking.

“Only things to gain,” I remind her. “After this, we’ll see to getting you a position and a place to stay.”

That seems to ease something in her. “Perfect,” she says.

I slip a pen into Felicity’s hand. “Sign there,” I say, pointing to a dotted line. “And you’ll have your place.”


	2. act II

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> here it is!! act 2!!  
> reminder that lyrics in italics are song lyrics taken from the show (though I did have to make some edits to Orpheus's song for pronouns and such), but I did try to use as much dialogue from the show as possible  
> I'm super proud of this au, short and niche as it is  
> I hope you enjoy!!!!

And so, Percy and I resume our dance. He’s furious with me. Even when I try to regain his favor, he ignores me and hides in his damned speakeasy. I have half a mind to finally shut the thing down, but that wouldn’t put me in his good graces. I don’t know why he’s so angry. Felicity isn’t different from any other worker, especially these days. I think she had her regrets at first. Sometimes I would see her working, looking morose. But slowly, she’s letting go of her old life. I spoke to her yesterday and it was like she didn’t remember her name at first. All of the workers forget eventually. It’s easier for them not to remember, to not have anything to regret.

I’m watching the workers now from the window in the dining room. I can just make out Felicity. Her auburn hair shines red under the lights, making her easy to follow. She’s working on the factory floor today, carrying loads from trucks inside the building. Sometimes she tries to make conversation with the others but none of them answer her. She’ll learn.

“Oh, you’re here.”

I turn around and see Percy standing in the doorway. “This is my dining room,” I say.

Percy nods, looking very much like he wants to say something, but he doesn’t.

“Did you need something, darling?”

Percy opens his mouth to speak but is interrupted when a shade comes rushing in, shaking flowers off. I glance at Percy, who now looks sheepish, then back at the shade. “What’s going on?”

Not all of my workers work on the wall or in the factories. Some, like most of the shades—the souls that arrived in the underworld naturally—have other jobs, such as service jobs. Some work in the palace as housekeepers or assistants or cooks. This shade looks like a housekeeper.

“My lord,” he says, “someone has breached the wall.”

“ _What_? Who?”

“A girl, a mortal girl—”

“Where is she now?” I ask.

“In the factory!”

I don’t let the shade say anything more. I leave for the factory, walking as fast as I can without sprinting. Percy rushes after me but he doesn’t try to speak.

There’s a balcony in the factory that lets me oversee the workers when I’m there. I rush up onto it. From there, I can see the workers. I see the girl instantly. Her red headscarf makes her impossible to miss, and her white shirt makes her stand out among my workers in their dark overalls. Not only this, but she’s holding my sister in her arms. It’s the girl Felicity isn’t quite in love with. 

“Young lady!” I call.

Felicity and the girl pull away from each other and look up at me. Felicity looks afraid, caught in the act. The girl, bless her soul, looks _defiant_ . She still has her arm around Felicity, pulling her close like that will somehow protect her as if Felicity _needs_ protection.

“I don’t think we’ve met before,” I say. “You’re not from around here, girl. I don’t know who the hell you are, but I can tell that you don’t belong.” I gesture to my workers. “These are working people, girl, law-abiding citizens. Go back to where you came from. You’re on the wrong side of the fence.”

“Monty!” Percy cuts in. “I know this girl!”

I don’t spare him a glance. “Yes, from the overworld.”

“Her name is Sim!” he presses on.

“You stay out of this!” I snap, turning to glare at him. Percy recoils like I’ve slapped him. He said so himself that he wants nothing to do with my empire; he has no right to try and exert his power now. I turn back to my sister and the girl. “Do you understand me, girl? It’s time for you to go,” I say, my voice carrying the threat of what will happen if she doesn’t.

Sim opens her mouth like she’s about to object but Felicity doesn’t let her. “No!” she cries. “Sim, you should go!”

Sim shakes her head. “I’m not going back alone! I came to take her home!”

I can’t help myself. I laugh. “Who the hell do you think you are? Who the _hell_ do you think you’re talking to? She couldn’t go anywhere even if she wanted to.” I lean against the railing of the balcony. “You’re not from around here, girl, because if you were then you would know that everything and everyone in this kingdom I own.” Sim starts to protest but I continue. “But I only buy what others _choose_ to sell.” She turns to Felicity as realization begins to dawn. “Oh? You didn’t know? She signed the deal herself. And now she—”

“It isn’t true!” Sim cries.

“—belongs to me.”

“It isn’t true!” she says again. “What he said, Felicity—”

“I did,” Felicity says, her voice shaking. “I do.”

Sim stumbles back like the words are a blow.

“As for you,” I say, calling their attention back to me. “I’ll have the foremen escort you out to make sure you don’t cause any more trouble, with _any force necessary_ .” I wave a hand and my workers start to close in on Sim. I can tell that she’s not the kind to go down without a fight, but I’m not a sadistic king. I don’t _enjoy_ watching people suffer. So I leave and let the workers deal with her as they see fit, ignoring the sounds of a scuffle as I leave.

That evening, Percy doesn’t dine with me. I expected as much. If he was furious before, he’s enraged now.

I sit alone at our table, watching the city. The workers are slower now, gossiping as they go about their tasks. I’m not worried about it. Maybe it’s best to let the girl be made an example out of. I still don’t know what she thought she would accomplish, marching into my kingdom and demanding I let Felicity go. She wasn’t able to provide for Felicity and it’s better she accepts that now. There are harsher punishments I could lay out, but I don’t want it to come to that. This girl is acting out of love for my sister.

She just has to learn that sometimes love isn’t enough.

“What are you afraid of?”

I turn my head to find Percy standing in the doorway, looking incensed. “What?” 

“She’s just a girl in love.” Percy points to the city where the workers are wrapping up their tasks for the day. At the edge of a group, I see Felicity fretting over Sim. Even from here, I can see that she’s in bad shape. I don’t imagine she’ll be much of a problem for much longer. No need for Percy to start paying attention now.

I pick up one of the bottles of wine on the table and start to pour a glass. “Have a drink, why don’t you?” I ask sardonically.

“No,” Percy says, so sternly that my head snaps up to stare at him. Percy looks just as shocked by his words as I am, but he quickly masks his surprise with defiance. “I’ve had enough.”

I scoff. “Oh, have you?”

Percy carries on, undeterred. “She loves your sister, Monty.”

I just shake my head.

“She has the kind of love for her that you and I once had,” Percy says in a rush.

That makes me stop. He has a lot of nerve making this about us, trying to play king again. My next words are careful. “What are you trying to prove?”

“Felicity means everything to her. Surely you can…” He trails off. _So much faith in me_.

“I can what, Percy?”

“Let her go!” Percy pleads. He’s suddenly kneeling in front of me, gripping my hands and it’s such an unfamiliar sensation that it takes a few moments before I can focus on what he’s saying again. “—dearest, if you had heard her—“

He puts a hand on my cheek, still holding my hand with his other one. He hasn’t touched me like this in so long. Now I can’t focus on what he’s saying at all. I’m too distracted reliving this memory of a time when Percy and I were alright. Too distracted remembering what it feels like to be loved by him.

But then I realize that’s what he wants. This isn’t some spontaneous act of affection. This is Percy trying to attain my favor, trying to persuade me.

I stand and step out of Percy’s reach. He’s left there, kneeling on the floor, looking confused. I hate to see him like that but I’m not going to let him do this to me.

“Don’t play games with me, Perseus,” I snap. “It won’t work. Don’t change your tune now that you need something from me.”

“So what?” Percy demands. “You’re going to make Sim suffer? You’re going to make _your_ _sister_ suffer? And for what? To spite me?”

“Don’t flatter yourself, darling.” Percy stands and steps back too, hurt, but I continue. “This isn’t about _you_ ,” I say, “nor is it about me.”

“Then _what_ , Monty?”

“This is about keeping order. What kind of king would I be if I let the first girl with a sob story disrupt the entire foundation that I’ve built?”

“Don’t be ridiculous. All she wants is the girl that she loves! It won’t make you any less of a king to have a little _compassion_ —”

I scoff. “What do you know about being king?” I ask. “Your _pity_ does not make you a king. You can’t decide you want to play at being king when it pleases you, to finally take your place at my side, as _my husband_ , for _her_ sake.”

“I will always be your husband,” Percy says. He softens but not in the way that I want him to, almost disappointed.

“Yet you never act like it.”

That catches him off guard. He stares at me. 

“It’s a funny thing, isn’t it?” I say. “You won’t lay a hand on me, won’t even look at me, until you need something. You say I exploit my workers and I lack compassion, but how are you any better, Perseus?” I give him the chance to answer but he keeps staring, his gaze turning hard. “Am I the manipulative one? Really? I may persuade my workers with promises but I _always_ deliver. And you do, what? Lead me on until you get what you want? Use my own marriage against me? And somehow _I’m_ the selfish one?”

“Yes,” Percy says, voice even. Percy rarely shouts. His anger is frigid, hard. “At least I’m trying to help people. Everything you do, you do for yourself.”

“Everything I do is for _us!_ ” I shout. When Percy flinches, I try to soften my voice. Let my husband loathe me, but never let him fear me. Nevertheless, I rein my voice in, not my anger, and continue. “I do _everything_ for us. I’m building an empire from ashes for us. You have no right to call _me_ selfish when you do nothing. You drink and throw parties and you turn into everything you once despised. You don’t know how to be a king, how to govern people and keep them from starvation and find them work. You don’t even know the first thing about working! You’ve never worked for anything in your life.”

“And if your idea of _work_ is suffering, then I never want to,” Percy retorts. “Being your husband is work enough.” With that, he storms out.

Dramatic.

When I wake up the next morning, I immediately know that something is wrong. I jump out of my bed and rush to the window. I can often see the workers from my bedrooms but never like this. Today they’re surrounding the palace, _singing_.

_“Why do we turn away when our brother is bleeding?_

_Why do we build the wall and then call it freedom?_

_If we're free_

_Tell me why_

_I can't look in my brother's eye?”_

I quickly dress and rush downstairs. I’m about to go outside and get the workers in line when I stop. I find my husband drinking to my downfall.

He’s sitting at our table, feet propped up, watching the workers through the window and _smiling_. When he hears me come in, he turns his head. He raises his glass. “Long live the revolution,” he says lightly.

“Did you have something to do with this?” I ask.

Percy laughs. “Me? Of course not, darling. They did this all on their own.”

We both look outside again and that’s when I see _her_. Sim. She’s leading the workers in their song, angry voices raised.

“Not on their own,” I say lowly.

Percy shrugs. “I don’t think it’s entirely Sim’s fault. This has been a long time coming. She was just the final straw.”

“What are you talking about?”

Percy looks at me again. “Tell me you aren’t that naive,” he says. When I don’t respond, he sighs. “You can’t keep people in gilded cages forever. They’re tired, Monty. They want to be free. Who can stand being trapped in this hell forever?”

“I always have,” I say, suddenly defensive. “My family always was.”

The look Percy gives me is almost pitying. “You’re saying your mother never wanted to leave?”

“Don’t bring her into this,” I snap. Still, I consider his words. My mother wasn’t an underworld goddess. She was from the overworld, a goddess so minor that I can’t even recall what she was goddess _of._ I know she was never quite happy in the underworld. “But she had my father to contend with,” I say.

“As do I,” Percy says, so softly that I almost don’t hear him.

Still, it makes me freeze. He doesn’t mean it. He doesn’t. He’s drunk and bitter and angry but he isn’t cruel. Percy would never say that and _mean it_. Percy must notice my shock because he softens.

“You’re not your father, Monty,” he says. “But you are—or you’re trying to be—more like him than you want to admit.”

I don’t have words for that. What does he want me to _say_?

From where Percy is sitting, his left side facing me, I can see the ring glinting on Percy’s finger every time he tips his glass. It’s his wedding ring: a silver band that he’s worn for millennia. I often wonder why he’s never taken it off, this physical band that binds him to me, if he loathes me so, but he never has. I’ve never taken mine off either. It’s the same as his, accompanied by an iron skull ring I wear on my first finger that I inherited from my father.

I look down at my hand, at the two rings I wear. I feel like Percy and I are on the cusp of something, but it’s something that I can’t figure out. Something that I don’t have time for right now.

Percy shakes his head. “Go quell your rebellion, Monty.”

And so, I do.

As soon as I step outside, I’m surrounded by workers circling the building. It’s not my entire workforce but it is a good number of them. They all look angry, obstinate, but I wonder how firm their resolve is when I lock eyes with one of the workers and she ducks her head. Regardless, they’re still singing, led by Sim.

_“Why do we turn away instead of standing with him?_

_Why are we digging our own graves for a living?_

_If we're free_

_Tell me why_

_We can't even stand upright?_

_If we're free_

_Tell me when_

_We can stand with our fellow man”_

“Enough!” I shout, and the workers listen. They fall silent. “Alright, girl, I have to hand it to you. I don’t know if you’re brave, or just plain stupid, but you don’t scare easy.”

Oddly enough, battered and bruised as she is, she smiles.

“So you breached my wall, won over my workers, and my husband,” I say. “Pardon my curiosity but _how_ did you do it?”

“I played a song,” she says like that explains it all.

“You did what?” I ask. I almost laugh.

Sim pulls at a strap on her shoulder and pulls forward a case. She opens it to reveal a violin. I know that violin, though I haven’t heard it played in a long time. “Lord Perseus taught me how to play, but he says I’ve got a gift for it.” She looks up at me, still smiling. “I did get the wall to part for me.”

“Your _song_ moved the wall?” It sounds impossible.

“Yes,” she says. “And it could move you too.”

I stare at her. “What’s your angle, girl?”

“None,” she says. She pulls the violin out of its case. “Just let me change your mind. Let me play for you.”

That time I do laugh. “Play for me?” She nods, undeterred. “What, do you sing too?”

“I can.”

We study each other for a long moment. I keep trying to see if she’s kidding, but she’s dead serious. Sim holds my gaze, determined.

I give in. “Fine,” I say, ignoring the ripple of surprise that passes through the gathered workers. “ _One_ song. And if you fail, I’ll make sure you’re taken care of myself.”

She just grins, nothing but confidence. “You won’t have to worry about it.”

An hour later, Percy and I are seated in a makeshift throne room (we haven’t needed one in a long time). There are workers packed in the room, all of them here to see Sim’s performance. Sim herself is waiting, perched on a stool. She holds her violin, running her fingers over the strings almost methodically. A shade sets a microphone on a stand in front of her. She smiles at the shade, who quickly walks off.

She turns to me. “Ready when you are, your majesty.”

I stand and silence fills the room. “You have the floor,” I say, and sit again.

She stands and brings the violin to her chin and begins to play. Her playing is rather simple, probably because she’s going to sing as well, but I can’t deny that it’s nice to hear music again. Aside from the workers’ songs, the underworld has no music. Even Percy doesn’t sing or play anymore.

Sim begins her song.

_“King of shadows_

_King of shades_

_Henry was king of the Underworld”_

“Oh, it’s about me,” I say drily.

Sim falters.

“Go on,” Percy says softly. It’s the first thing that he’s said since I returned and announced that Sim was going to be performing. When I told him, he stared at me like I had spoken in another language, then nodded and followed me to the throne room. But he didn’t bring his flask, which is something.

His encouragement must bolster Sim’s confidence because, after a deep breath, she continues.

_“But he fell in love with a radiant god_

_Who walked up above_

_In the thriving green fields_

_He fell in love with Perseus_

_Who was gathering flowers in the light of the sun_

_And I know how it was because_

_He was like me_

_Giving his whole heart to someone_

_Singing la la la la la la la”_

It’s a simple, seven-note melody. Sim sings is almost hesitantly as she plays the notes on her violin. But it makes me freeze because I _know_ that melody. I’ve heard it before, eons ago, in a garden. I glance at Percy because I’m afraid to really look at him. But he must remember it too, the same mystified expression on his face.

That’s _our_ melody. The one I found him singing the day I asked him to be my husband.

_“La la la la la la la”_

“Where’d you get that melody?” I ask, voice strained.

_“La la la la la la la”_

I go to stand but Percy puts a hand on my arm. “Let her finish, Monty.”

I sit again.

_“La la la la la la_

_And you didn't know how_

_And you didn't know why_

_But you knew that you wanted to take him home_

_You saw him alone there, against the sky_

_It was like he was someone you'd always known_

_It was like you were holding the world when you held him_

_Like yours were the arms that the whole world was in_

_And there were no words for the way that you felt_

_So you opened your mouth and you started to sing:_

_La la la la la la la”_

She continues singing the melody as her violin playing gets more complex and for some reason, the workers start to sing with her. They get louder and louder, almost overwhelmingly so. But it’s beautiful. A laugh is tugged out of me, not mocking but joyful. When I look over at Percy, he has tears in his eyes.

He looks at me and gives a smile. A _genuine_ smile. I almost start crying too.

But Sim isn’t done. When the _las_ die down, she continues.

_“And what has become of the heart of that man_

_Now that the man is king?_

_What has become of the heart of that man_

_Now that he has everything?_

_The more he has, the more he holds_

_The greater the weight of the world on his shoulders_

_See how he labors beneath that load_

_Afraid to look up, and afraid to let go_

_So he keeps his head low, he keeps his back bending_

_He's grown so afraid that he'll lose what he owns_

_But what he doesn't know is that what he's defending_

_Is already gone_

_Where is the treasure inside of your chest?_

_Where is your pleasure? Where is your youth?_

_Where is the man with his arms outstretched?_

_To the man that he loves_

_With nothing to lose_

_Singing la la la la la la la…”_

She stares at me expectantly. I realize she wants me to _sing_ , to echo the melody. I don’t know if it’s hearing our melody again, or the way that her lyrics make me feel scraped out, hollow, and exposed, but something compels me to do it.

 _“La la la la la la la,”_ I sing, my voice unsure.

Sim smiles. _“La la la la la la la,”_ she continues. She gestures to Percy and I, almost excitedly.

Percy takes my hand. The three of us sing it together.

_“La la la la la la la”_

Sim gives a short bow.

Percy turns to me. “Dance with me?” he asks. I nod because I don’t trust myself to speak. He smiles again, like the first rays of sunlight at dawn. “Don’t _stop_ , Sim!” he says as he stands and pulls me to my feet.

With a grin, Sim obliges. She starts to play again, something upbeat and lively. And we _dance_. I don’t know how I ever forgot, but Percy and I used to dance all the time. The steps come back to me effortlessly. It starts as a jig, the two of us moving in sync. But then we just dance some bastardized waltz, no cares for the steps. Percy twirls in my arms, his laughter ringing out like the sweetest song I’ve ever heard.

Eventually, we’re not even dancing at all. We’re swaying, holding each other for the first time in centuries. I rest my head on Percy’s shoulder. I used to mind his height difference, the way he towered over me always feeling like I was being looked down on. But I forgot that we fit together this way. I tuck my head in the crook of his neck and he leans his head against mine. If a few of his stray tears land on me, I don’t say anything.

Even when Sim stops playing, we stay that way. She and Felicity have their moment but I’m barely aware of it. All that matters right now is him. All that has ever mattered is him. I can’t believe it took me so long to remember that.

“Your majesties?” Sim’s voice breaks our trance. Percy and I pull away from our embrace, but I refuse to let go of his hand. I can’t let him go, not when I just got him back. When Percy realizes that I’m not letting go, he looks at me. For a second I worry that he’ll tug free, that it really was just a trance, but he doesn’t. He smiles again and squeezes my hand. Sim and Felicity are holding hands, too. “Can we go?” Sim asks.

Everyone watches me. I study the hopeful couple, my workers crowded behind them. Not a breath can be heard. _Can we go?_ she asked. The truth is that I don’t know, but a king can’t be unsure. I have to make a decision, the right decision. I don’t want to ruin this fragile peace, provoke my workers into full-scale rebellion and push Percy away again. But to just let them go…

What if this is fruitless? What if their immediate freedom brings chaos to my kingdom? What if every worker wants their freedom, toppling a system it has taken centuries to build? What if this puts me right back where I started: ruling over a wasteland with a resentful husband?

What if love isn’t enough?

“Sim,” I begin, “you have given me a gift that I will never be able to repay you for.” I look over at Percy. His expression is a mixture of hope and pride as he brings the back of my hand to his lips. If nothing else, I have to do this for him. I look back at Sim and Felicity, their expressions pure hope. “But…contracts cannot be so easily forgiven. You can go, but there are conditions.”

Felicity looks like she has doubts but Sim is undeterred. “Anything,” she says.

“You can walk back to the overworld together,” I say, “but Sim must walk in front and Felicity will follow. If you turn around to make sure Felicity is there before you reach the surface, Felicity comes back into my service, no questions asked.”

“But why?” Felicity asks.

“Prove yourselves to me. To all of us. Prove that your love for each other is enough to keep you together, even when you aren’t hand in hand.”

“It’s a trap,” Sim accuses.

“It’s a trial,” I correct her. “Do you trust each other? Do you trust _yourselves_?”

“We do,” they say immediately.

“Then you’re going to have to prove it.” I hold out my free hand for Sim to shake. “Can you do that?”

“We can,” they say. Sim grasps my hand and shakes it firmly. The deal is made.

“You’ll stay here for the night,” I say. “Rest before your journey. In the morning, we’ll see you off.” I address the workers. “Production will be suspended for the next two days. After that…” I trail off. Percy squeezes my hand again, a silent reminder. A challenge. “Decisions will be made after that.”

The next morning, I wake in a bed with Percy for the first time in thousands of years. It’s Percy’s bed. When our marriage first started falling apart, Percy started sleeping in a set of guest rooms on the other side of the palace. Over the years, the rooms became his. His rooms are much different than mine. Much brighter. Plants and bottles clutter the space. I don’t know how any plants manage to survive down here but if anyone can manage it, my husband can.

I turn over in bed to see my husband, still asleep. I let myself ogle him a bit. In my defense, it has been a _long_ few millennia without even _seeing_ a naked Percy, let alone getting to do what we did last night.

When I’m done appreciating his beauty, I lean over and kiss one of the freckles on Percy’s cheek—a small detail that only I’m privy to. It feels good to simply be able to _do_ that again. At my kiss, though, Percy groans and rolls over.

He’s still dramatic. Especially in the mornings.

Undeterred, I start pressing lazy kisses to any exposed skin I can reach—his neck, his shoulders, his back.

“Monty,” Percy complains.

“Good morning, darling,” I say, pressing a final kiss to his cheek. It’s amazing how easy this feels, as if our thousands-of-years separation never even happened. I think we’re both eager to pretend that it never did. I’m sure that we’ll have to confront it all eventually. We’ve both done and said things that even spectacular sex can’t fix. If we want this reconciliation to last, we’ll have to make changes.

But I think that it can wait a day or two.

Percy rolls over again to face me, a smile tugging at his lips. “Since when you do you get up this early?”

“A king always rises first,” I say.

Percy wrinkles his nose. “One of your father’s tidbits?” he asks. I must make a face too because he takes me by my jaw and kisses me, soft like an apology. “I’m sorry,” he says earnestly.

I hum in response, ducking my head into the crook of his neck. More things that I’m not ready to confront. We lay there for a while, enjoying each others’ presence. I slept better last night curled up against Percy than I have in ages. It’s just easier to sleep with him around. Plus, it’s impossible to be cold with him; he radiates heat.

Eventually, Percy sighs and rolls onto his back. “Today’s the day,” he says.

 _The day for what?_ I wonder. I know what he’s talking about, of course. But I can’t help wondering what today is the day _for_. The end of an era? A last meal before execution? A revolution? I wish I knew.

“We should get up,” he says.

After we dress, we go to meet the workers crowded around their apartments, waiting for Felicity and Sim. This is going to be quite the event then. When Felicity and Sim emerge from Felicity’s apartment, the workers break out into song.

_“Show the way so we can see_

_Show the way the world could be_

_If you can do it, so can she_

_If she can do it, so can we_

_Show the way_

_Show the way the world could be_

_Show the way so we believe_

_We will follow where you lead_

_We will follow with you_

_Show the way”_

They really have their sights set on freedom. The thought makes me more nervous than I want to admit, but I’m not going to worry about it yet. Felicity smiles when she hears them, something like pride on her face.

Percy and I approach them.

“You remember the conditions?” I ask.

Sim nods. “Felicity will follow me and I won’t turn around to see her until we’re on the surface again.”

“How will you know when we make it?” Felicity asks. I admire her confidence if nothing else.

“I’ll know,” I say. I’ll sense it, feel the shift as a soul _leaves_ the underworld.

That’ll be different.

“Well,” Sim says, “it’s time to go.”

“Good luck,” Percy says.

“We won’t need it,” Felicity assures him. She trusts this girl so much. I just hope Sim doesn’t let her down.

They set off. They’re going to walk back the way Sim came. I’m still not completely sure where that is but we don’t bother following them. We stand there with the workers, who break into a new song to see them off.

_“Wait for me, I'm comin'_

_Wait, I'm comin' with you_

_Wait for me, I'm comin' too_

_Wait for me, I'm comin'_

_Wait, I'm comin' with you_

_Wait, I'm comin'_

_Show her the way”_

They sing until Sim and Felicity are well out of sight. Then they turn to each other, everyone chattering about what’s going to happen next.

Percy takes my hand, still staring after Sim and Felicity. “Think they’ll make it?” he asks.

“I don’t know,” I say honestly.

“Monty, you let them go.” He still sounds surprised by it.

I hesitate before replying. “I let them try.”

He turns his head and meets my gaze. His eyes are searching. “And how about you and I?” he asks. There it is. The acknowledgment. We may not be fighting, but we haven’t righted everything between us. We can’t mend the divide between us when the things that divided us remain. “Are we going to try again?”

“It’s time for spring,” I say. Percy’s surprise registers on his face. It’s early, I know, but it is time. Percy wasn’t being dramatic when he said the seasons were off. I’ve been bringing him home too early and sending him back too late, causing something short of chaos up above. I want to right things between us and that will have to start with righting the seasons. Tomorrow, I’ll have to send him back. “We’ll try again next fall.”

“Wait for me?” he asks.

I kiss the back of his hand before I answer. “I will.”

They make it.

I almost don’t believe it but the feeling is unmistakable, unlike anything I’ve ever felt. Just to make sure, I go to my office and dig for Felicity’s contract. It’s gone.

The workers celebrate. They sing more songs, they dance. Percy provides them with more than enough to drink, though I never see him with a drink himself. I don’t exactly join the celebrations but I don’t stop them from partying. When Percy asks me for a dance, I don’t decline. It’s a small price to pay to see him smile at me like that again.

When we finish that dance, Percy keeps his hold on me, all but forcing me to join the festivities. I’m not upset about it. I enjoyed parties when I was much younger, and maybe some things never change.

The celebration winds down and workers start retiring to their apartments. Percy and I walk back to the palace, hand in hand. When we get there, we stop. Our rooms are in opposite directions and while last night we were stumbling along together and I just let Percy pull me along, tonight there’s a question to it.

“Can I…?” Percy asks, nodding towards my rooms.

 _You can have anything you want_ , I tell him, but it just comes out as, “Yes.”

I always sleep easier with Percy around, but not tonight for some reason. Maybe it’s knowing that, after tomorrow, I won’t get to do this again for at least six months. That’s assuming we’ll manage to salvage our marriage after all. I don’t know what will happen and I hate not knowing. Still, I worry that the only way to get any answers is by having conversations that I dread. I’m not the best at conversations. I’m not sure if Percy and I will even remember how to have one that doesn’t end in shouting. I want to skip past that part, return to the state we were in before our first argument ever happened. But Percy isn’t the type to let things go swept aside. If he were, we probably wouldn’t have fought for as long as we did.

“You’re not asleep.”

I start and roll over to find Percy staring at me. “Neither are you.”

“Can’t sleep,” he says.

“Me neither,” I say. “Thinking too much, I suppose.”

“Who are you and what have you done with my husband?” I make a face at him and he laughs. “Nothing good has ever come from you thinking too much.”

“I resent that,” I say.

“Am I wrong?” he asks.

I don’t have anything to say to that. We’re silent for a few minutes. Percy studies me, his gaze searching. Somehow laying here, facing each other, his eyes boring into mine, feels more intimate than anything we’ve ever done. “Why are you looking at me like that?” I ask.

“Just thinking about how I’ll have to thank Sim when I go back to the surface.”

“For what?”

“For bringing you back to me.”

That gives me pause. “You…you never lost me.”

“Didn’t I?”

I sit up. I don’t want to do this. I don’t want to have this conversation yet. I don’t want to lie there while Percy stares at me, scrutinizes. I sit up so that I don’t have to look at him, pulling my legs to my chest. But Percy has me now and he’s not going to let me pull away from this. He sits up too, still searching my face.

“You were always so absorbed in your kingdom,” Percy presses on. “It felt like you weren’t yourself anymore. I always took second to whatever you had going on here—”

I cut him off. “You just don’t _get it_ , do you?” I look at him and it’s obvious that he doesn’t. “Did you think I was kidding when I said it was all for you?”

Percy frowns. “I thought you were just…” he trails off. “What do you mean this was all for me?” 

He’s giving me that searching look again so I look away, stumbling through an answer. “I know you have your people on the surface, but I have nothing. Without you, I’m nothing. Six months of the year, I was here, alone, ruling over a wasteland, nothing to do and nothing to show for it when you came home. So…I built something, something for you to come home to other than me.”

“What made you think that you weren’t enough?”

I scoff. “When have I ever been—”

“Always,” Percy says firmly. He laces our fingers and lifts my chin with his free hand, forcing me to look at him. “Monty, I never wanted all that. All I wanted was you.”

“But you always hated it here.”

“Yes, because of all the factories! Not because of you!” he says. “Okay, sort of because of you. But because I was angry with you, not because I didn’t love you.”

I should focus on Percy saying he loves me. I haven’t heard that in a long time. But I’m still hung up on the first part. “The factories? Really? That’s what it’s always been about?”

“Yes! I’ve been telling you that for years, Monty. You can’t keep using these people like this.”

“I’m not using—”

“Henry, come on,” Percy says flatly. “They were about to _revolt_. You can’t leave things the way that they are.”

I don’t have anything to say to that.

“Promise me.”

“What?”

“Promise me that…that things are going to change.” He’s still forcing me to look at him, his gaze so intense that I couldn’t turn away if I wanted to.

“I promise,” I say.

Percy watches me for a moment as if he’s deciding whether I mean it or not. When he seems satisfied, he nods. “Okay.”

When we lapse into silence, I lean into his side and say, “I love you too, you know.”

Percy smiles and presses his lips to my forehead. “I know.”

Percy and I meet downstairs the next morning so I can see him off. Percy is dressed for his return in his favorite acid green and his boots exchanged for his leather ones. He’s wearing that giant fur coat of his again. I take his hand and we walk outside to wait for the train.

“I’ll see you in six months,” I say.

Percy nods, a sad smile on his face.

The train whistles, almost to the palace.

“Here,” Percy says. He pulls his hand out of my grip and sets his bag down. When I turn, he’s holding out cupped hands. “A piece of me to hold onto until next fall.” In his hands is a small red flower.

“Darling, that can’t live down here,” I say.

“It will,” Percy says with so much certainty that I can’t argue. He places the flower in my hand. “It’ll live.”

I decide to humor him, smile, and put the flower on the front of my suit. Then, I take him by the back of the neck and pull him down for a kiss.

“Just six months,” Percy says when we part.

“ _Just_ ,” I say flatly.

He just smiles and kisses my cheek.

The train whistles again, stopping at the platform. Percy hugs me, picks up his bag again, gets on the train, and he’s gone.

Just for six months.

_Six Months Later_

I’m nervous about today. Is it strange to be nervous? I keep telling myself that I have no reason to be nervous but I’m never convinced. Picking up Percy has never been so nervewracking. I just keep worrying that maybe something has changed over the six months. Maybe our last few days together were a fluke and we’re going to go right back where we started.

The train should be here any minute. It runs a bit slower nowadays since the tracks have been rerouted so it functions as a subway of sorts. That’s one of the many changes I’ve made over the past six months. They haven’t all been perfect changes, but it’s progress. 

Soon after Percy left in the spring, I set my workers to their final task: tearing down the wall. It wasn’t an easy order to give, to watch years of work demolished. I noticed, though, that I was the only one with any reservations about it. The workers were more than happy to. After that, they weren’t workers anymore. I freed the souls that signed themselves away to me that still had days left on earth. Those who didn’t have days left or ended up in the underworld naturally are still there but freed from their service all the same. The city is more like a city now, shops being opened and homes being built as the souls start to remember who they are. They still find work in their own way, in the shops and the speakeasies. Some volunteer to work positions in the palace for higher pay. But none of them do the same backbreaking labor they used to. I’m still not very sure of any of it, if things will work this way forever. But I promised that things would change and I try to be a man of my word. Especially for Percy.

The train finally pulls up to the platform. I climb on. I’m the only one the train is transporting today. The ride feels longer than it ever has before.

The train finally pulls into the station at sunset.

The clearing looks a bit less lively this year, though I’m later than I have been in a long time. Most of it was in the interest of keeping my word to Percy, but my anxieties about our reunion made the wait a bit easier. But when I catch sight of him, some of those anxieties are soothed. Percy looks the same, he always looks the same: his loose green shirt, flowing brown pants, leather boots. He’s still a stark contrast to me, although I’m not completely monochromatic today. Against all odds, the red flower Percy gave to me survived the six months, so I fastened it to the front of my suit again for him.

The most striking difference, though, is that Percy looks almost _excited_ to see me. It’s excitement tinged with nervousness, but excitement nonetheless. He stands with his same group as last year. It’s oddly comforting to see a girl with a red headscarf among them, an auburn-haired girl on her arm.

The train whistles, rumbling to a stop. Scipio goes to hand Percy his bag but he waves him off. The train door opens and I barely have time to step out onto the platform before Percy is running towards me. He throws his arms around me, nearly sending us both to the ground.

I laugh. “Hello, darling,” I say, though it’s practically smothered by a kiss. We stand there, six months—no, thousands of years of longing and love and apologies shared in a kiss (alright, more than one kiss). We stay that way for so long that Scipio whistles teasingly but I wave him off. We finally break the kiss but don’t put an inch of space between us.

“You’re early,” Percy says. I feel his smile against my own. He’s not upset about it. I am, admittedly, still a little early. But only by a day.

I kiss him again. “I missed you.”

**Works inspired by this one:**

  * [Red Roses, Paper Planes](https://archiveofourown.org/works/27099511) by [em_gray](https://archiveofourown.org/users/em_gray/pseuds/em_gray)




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